I guess this is why we love people more than things

So when I was a freshman in high school, I spent several months in an advanced pottery class making a 2 foot tall vase out of clay. My very inspiring art teacher decided to enter it in our high school conference art show, where about 10 school go to compete and show their art. I won a best in show award, much to my surprise, and was asked to display the pot in several different art shows around the state. It was pretty exciting for my 14 year old self, and my aunt wrote an article in the county newspaper about it (since all of the small towns that we lived around weren't big enough to each have a newspaper of their own there was one for the county).

This is a poor scan of the old newspaper clipping. I am sure you are all wondering what could actually possess me to put this old picture up on my blog.... Well...
I have kept this pot with me where ever I went. In college it survived 2 dorm rooms, 2 apartments, and one house. Since I left college and got married, we have lived in 3 different places and have had the pot in our living room most of the time. In our duplex it sits next to the fireplace, or at least it did.

Yesterday when I was coming out of the kitchen, I heard a loud thud and a crash and I knew what had happened. My little Henry, had climbed over the pillow barricade that I use to keep him out of the corner of the room where the heater vent and the vase both are, and had proceed to use his brute strength to tip the heavy and otherwise sturdy vase to the ground. As you can probably guess, I knew before I entered the room what had happened, and what I would see when I got over there. It is safe to say that I was pretty upset and distressed about my art work of 14 years prior being bashed. And there is no salvaging it, aside from the large chunks that broke off in several places, there were also a lot of small pieces missing.

After having a good little sad cry for my once cherished possession, I came back in to find Henry oblivious and continuing to dump out toys and knock books of the shelf. He gave me a big happy smile and just laughed at his destructive little self.
How could a person stay mad at such a cute little face? Not to mention the fact that any sad pouting is lost on a 10 month old.

So, I would like to request a moment of silence for a lost work of art, from all of you that were dedicated to read my whole sad story.

In my own defense, I don't think that I have strong attachment to many worldly possessions, But I guess I just needed a reminder... After it is all said and done, I can't take a vase with me anyway. However, I can take my strong, crazy and happy little Henry into the eternities.